


I need Somebody

by Bongo (FlokesDesign)



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Designer John, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Flashbacks, George is caring, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Model Paul, Modeling AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Photographer Ringo, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, This is gonna get quite long, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, alternative universe, everybody needs a hug, it will be ok, like 10 chapters or smth, longfic, model george, please don't read if you're triggered easily, ringo needs a hug, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlokesDesign/pseuds/Bongo
Summary: Suicidal thoughts have many causes. Most often, suicidal thoughts are the result of feeling like you can't cope when you're faced with what seems to be an overwhelming life situation. Often times it's loneliness that gets overwhelmingly harmful and sometimes loneliness and pain can increase the risk to abuse alcohol.Richard Starkey, a successful fashion photographer in his thirties, is just another proof for said thesis. Damaged and overtaken by the lingering darkness the feeling of being alone causes, the only thing he finds comfort in is another bottle of wine.That doesn't really change when an arising fashion model called George Harrison enters his life.In fact, Richard is suddenly closer to rock bottom than he had ever been before. One man couldn't cure his mental health issues after all.Or maybe he could, maybe the photographer's situation does change, slowly, barely noticeably.[Trigger Warning, please pay attention to the tags!]
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	I need Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Lads and Ladies.  
> Disclaimer: I want to warn you all. If you are sensitive to topics like suicidal thoughts, alcoholism or (past) abusive relationships, please don't read this!  
> I myself haven't suffered from these things luckily but I'm doing my best in describing everything.  
> English is not my mother tongue, so I'd be really grateful if you let me know of any mistakes :)

It was a hot day, the middle of summer to be exact and everybody was sweating and feeling uncomfortable in their sticky warm clothes. The dawning evening brought a cool breeze that each and everyone welcomed, having wished for it so dearly. But it wasn’t cold enough to calm their hot bodies and exhausted sighs to a reasonable level.

In a hotel room, luxurious and yet hopelessly boring, a man was trying his best to stay concentrated, despite the crushing thick layer of hot air, that filled his lungs with every breath taken. The hotel room wasn’t bad, no, it had a nice bed for two and was as spacious as a normal hotel room could be. The man liked the pale green walls and the wooden floor just as much as he liked the fact that he had his own private bathroom and a microwave even. Certainly a luxurious little room for a few nights.

But just as much as it was nice and modern, it was loveless and cold. Nothing connected Richard, which was the man’s name, with the impersonal and way to spacious room. The double bed which he shared with no one but himself and the quietness of the surroundings almost felt offensive to him. He didn’t need his loneliness rubbed in his face even while he was sleeping after all.

Richard, who was a man in his thirties with azure blue eyes and a short frame, wished he could just lay down and rest a little on said sheets, being all exhausted by the what felt like boiling hot weather. But that wasn’t possible. Being a well-known fashion photographer, he had to prepare for the following days where he’d be doing photo shootings for an also well-known fashion magazine.

The man really loved his job. It was one of his greatest passions. Capturing tender and transitory moments in a small lens, making them last and showing all the potential and beauty they could hold, was something magical to him. It was almost a nostalgic action, trying desperately to hold onto something, a moment that would be over just seconds later. An action he would succeed at. Partly. The moment would be there but the time gone. It was just as beautiful as it was incomprehensible.

But just like how it is when you have to do something with a deadline, when you have to do it because it’s what brings the money in the house, he didn’t feel like doing what he was supposed to do. Today was one of these days where every bit of motivation was lost like a needle in a barn filled with hay. He lay on the hotel bed, tablet leaning against his slightly tucked up legs, head elevated and cushioned with a big pillow. His eyes rested on the simple white and black chequered pattern of the bedspread he was laying on. He was in thoughts, deeply lost in some thread that got thinner and thinner until he lost it and got back to the reality, outside his head.

Actually, he was supposed to do some research now, come up with ideas for the following days and get some inspiration. He was ought to come up with a plan, something that would suck him in, enthuse him.

It didn’t work quite as intended, Richard’s thoughts kept slipping away until he was just staring at the ceiling, mind somewhere different now. He could barely grasp his own drain of thoughts. They were meaningless, things like his dinner or the little cracks on the ceiling wandered through his head, plainly with the purpose to distract him from his actual business.

Everything exhausted Richard right now. Working as a photographer was a competitive business that involved lots of work and Richard certainly wasn’t the worst, having made himself a name in the business already. He wasn‘t a competitive person actually, mostly way too kind to push his way to the top, but his skill and passion made up for that gentleness that got in his way sometimes. Still, he loved it just as much as he felt drained by it. The pressure was high and it was a hectic job.

His work involved lots of traveling. Whenever a company hired him he’d be there and since he was quite known by now, that happened a lot. It made the whole thing exciting, restless and everything but boring, just like a never-ending journey. Yet, Richard felt some sense of monotony in his days. It wasn’t his profession he supposed, traveling and preparing shootings was never a dull task and always involved lots of thinking, it was more his personal situation. Richard was lonely and everything besides his job was dreary, tiresome, sad. To him it almost felt like his only purpose as a human being was his work, one photo shoot after another, one country after another and every week a different city. It was hard to make friends when you were traveling around all the time, changing location every week or so.

Richard had a few friends but he barely saw them, as they were just as busy and all over the place. A fashion designer called John Lennon, whom he would work with the following days and a model with the name Paul McCartney, which he had previously worked with, were what he could proudly call his friends. Proudly because they were his only ones and even though it was a small number, he was glad he had friends at all. They weren’t close friends though, in fact, he barely knew them. The three of them had only spent a few days working together and having a beer afterwards. Pathetic, certainly, but he didn’t like to complain much. Could be worse, right? But still, it wasn’t easy and the young man felt how it slowly got worse and worse on his mental health. He was a happy character by nature and he was a “people-person”. Someone, who liked to have friends, who liked to laugh and joke around. He wasn’t able to do either of that, partly because of his work situation and partly because of a dark past that was still lingering in the back of his head. During the shoots he had contact to many interesting people and his social skills were certainly needed and important too, but that was work, and work only.

He sighed and got up, strolling to the balcony the hotel room featured, as he lit a cigarette. Luckily the room had one, he thought. He certainly didn’t like to leave the hotel room when he took one of his way too many smoking breaks.

His eyes wandered over the sea of houses beneath and in front of him. People were swimming through the streets, around the houses, like fish hiding in coral reefs and algae. New York was a nice city to work at, he had been here often, since many companies used the large monopoly as their place of business. Richard liked the bright lights, the people and the liveliness on the streets just as much as he hated it. On one hand it was interesting, almost entertaining to watch the masses of people, the diversity they brought and the noise they made but it also made him feel even more lonely, lost in a bunch of people, unable to make any lasting connections. And it made him feel meaningless. In a big city like New York no one would care about an anxious lonely man who wished for better life. And each and everyone was just passing by in another hurry, living another busy filled day that in the end didn’t mean much at all.

The man rested his ringed hand on the balcony railing as he deeply inhaled the smoke of his cigarette. Sometimes Richard regretted hitting the big time as a photographer. He owned a little photographic studio in his hometown Liverpool, where he usually built up his own projects, spending lots of time planning and putting all his heart and love into it without traveling too much, without the hasty competitive mindset and without feeling incredibly out of place every time.

That‘s exactly how he felt. Out of place. Like he didn’t belong anywhere, with no one to talk to if he needed to.

He still had said studio but now days he barely used it, getting one commission after the other by big, rich companies, that mostly only cared for the profit which his well-made photographs and compositions guaranteed them.

The weather was truly unbearable and after he finished his cigarette, Richard decided to take a cold shower, washing off all his sweat. He wouldn’t be productive today, that was obvious, his mind dwelling too much and being too overwhelmed with the aching feeling of loneliness. He wasn’t the oldest but he surely wasn’t the youngest anymore either and would have liked someone else in his life. A partner, maybe kids even, a lover, anything. Maybe just a quick date resolving into air as soon as he’d leave again. He knew it was pointless, he barely had any time for himself let alone a relationship and he also had a certain hesitation when it came to putting his trust into other people. He had his reasons.

The cold water that now hit his heated, sweaty skin made the man shiver slightly, contrasting the hot air in the room. He closed his eyes and let it stream down on his face, over his shoulders and hips, down his legs until it hit the cold ground of the shower. Richard was averagely slim with a layer of baby fat that he always had had. It made him look cute to some people, made his features a little bit softer and less edgy. Of course he didn’t want to be seen as adorable, he was a fully grown man after all but there was worse to complain about and complaining was something Richard didn’t like to do, even though it happened way too often recently. He sung a bit, not really a song, just something that he made up, random ideas in his mind put into just as random notes. He thought about going out tonight, sitting down in a bar and having a drink. It was something that unfortunately became an expensive and unhealthy habit to Richard by now. Alcohol worked just too well to drown one’s sorrows and get some ease after a stressful day of work. Not that the photographer didn’t have that money, he was quite successful, but it certainly wasn’t a solution to all his problems. The man didn’t like to admit how comfortable he had grown with using drinking as an answer to his anxiety and longing for love but he wasn’t completely unaware of it either, the thought quietly lingering far in the back of his head but way too weak to break through and make any change.

Fully washed Richard now dried himself and stepped out of the modern, spacious shower onto the cold floor. Having been in shorts only and not having left his hotel room the entire day, the short man now slid on a pair of tight blue jeans and a long sleeved dark blue blouse with floral pattern on it, that was just light enough to be bearable in the heat of the day - If there was anything that was bearable at all. The man looked at himself in the mirror while closing his black leather belt around his hips. A shave wouldn’t be a bad idea, looking at how little stubbles of ash brown hair already tried to make their way through to grow into a beard. Usually he’d leave out his upper lip moustache from the shaving routine and he didn’t feel like changing that now. Humming, Richard took the razor out of his little bag, as well as the shaving cream and got to work. He preferred little, manual razors before electric ones, they were cleaner in his opinion and somehow more personal. Richard winced as he cut himself slightly beneath his lip. That was the downside of a sharp, manual razor blade.

The blue-eyed man looked in the mirror for a while. A sad face looked back, chin length hair still wet and big, droopy eyes, filled with an emptiness that he had grown way too familiar with by now. How long could he continue like that? He didn’t know and quite frankly he didn’t care. By now he was used to it, it was normal, he’d just carry on.

For a while Richard kept staring at himself in the mirror while rubbing some after shave cream into his skin, thoughts still lost in his incriminating anxiety. He wasn’t the most attractive man in his own opinion but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pay lots of attention to his clothing and his looks in general, especially being part of the fashion industry. Taking good care of his skin, smelling good and being generally well taken care of was essential in that certain work field. He did feel a little embarrassed sometimes, humiliated even, since the models he worked with were really attractive people. They had to be, obviously, being good-looking was their job after all. The photographer knew that but it was still difficult sometimes. Especially on days where he was feeling down and unhappy, it wasn’t nice to see people much more attractive than yourself. Whatever.

Usually however, Richard was quite satisfied with how he looked like. He might be a little short, his nose a little big, lips a bit puffy and eyes too droopy, but he didn’t think he was entirely unattractive. It was his kindness he savoured, his fun nature he appreciated about himself. At least that was what he liked to think. He didn’t want to be aware of how these qualities were slowly fainting away, together with his confidence and happiness, replaced by loneliness and monotony. It was something that made him more and more desperate and started slowly nagging on his self-esteem and mental health. Richard was afraid, he knew his life was slowly spiraling down into a dark hole and he slit down farther towards that edge with every passing day, with every lonely week spend in another hotel room with an empty double bed. Not that he could change much about it at the moment.

Satisfied with his outfit and fresh shave, the droopy eyed man put on a pair of black leather boots and a smooth, dark leather jacket. It could be cold in the evening after all. Making his way through the masses of people and looking for a nice pub to stay in, Richard felt an uncomfortably strong urge to find somewhere to sit down at as soon as possible and get drunk as quickly as he could. He truly couldn’t wait to have a seat, unbothered by all the happy people that were having the time of their life, not at all lonely. Once again he was more than ready to drown his sorrows in beer and alcohol.

He ordered a few drinks, forced them down quickly and felt it getting to his head, becoming more and more tipsy with the time passing. It wasn’t an action he enjoyed, no, it plainly served to numb his feelings. He had noticed that now it took more alcohol than it had in the beginning to get totally drunk, in the beginning when he first had felt the cold feeling of despair creeping up his throat, tightening it and taking away his breath. That was years ago and it hadn’t gotten any better, his situation hadn’t changed after all.

As much as the photographer liked to blame his busy schedule for his situation, there were many happily married star photographers too. It was just that he didn’t want to blame himself and he didn’t want to think about reasons that now lay far behind him in a past, less fortunate relationship. Richard wanted to have a partner, he wanted to love someone and feel loved back. It just never happened, as soon as a chance was given, he got too withdrawn, too drowned into his work. It felt like there was no one who would be able to understand or love him. It also didn’t really help that he couldn’t feel any attraction towards the opposite gender, making it even harder to find someone fitting.

The pub was rather calm. It was rustical and tables, bar and walls, as well as the floor, were all wooden and tinted dark. Only a few low hanged lamps enlighted the surroundings. It almost felt like an old sailor’s bar, where oil lamps would be the only source of illumination. It was certainly cosy and to Richard just the perfect atmosphere to get canned and sometimes even coked up.

Actually, Richard wasn’t a person who liked to go for one nighters but when he was drunk that was something he occasionally did, and since he was drunk so often he might as well have become a person who liked one night stands. Not that he remembered many of them. Richard figured that his body just longed for some kind of touch, as loveless as it usually was with one nighters, at least it was something. He was ready to have some fun tonight, he desperately needed it. Before he could flirt with some random guy however, something else caught his attention.

A musician with a guitar had just arrived and gave his best in the corner of the room that was made up like a stage. Just like Richard, he was wearing blue jeans and leather boots, paired with a simple black shirt that had a V-neck. Slender and lean arms were wrapped around the instrument and he was curled up on a tiny uncomfortable looking stool while he sung. Boxes stacked on each other, were meant to serve as a platform, attempting to make the musician stand out from the guests of the pub, but it was rather shabby and didn’t really work as intended. Instead, the man was hidden in the corner, invisible to those who didn’t care. Not many people were listening but Richard took a liking in the calm, slightly smoky and yet high voice. He made his way to the corner where the sound was coming from. It was a shame that the equipment was so bad and the beautiful voice didn’t come through like it should have. The man had to sing louder than his calm voice allowed, since the microphone didn’t catch up his input and his wooden acoustic guitar was way too quiet to fill the room with enough voice. It bothered Richard who was passionate about music too. Before he had decided to become photographer, he had given drumming lessons to children but it started frustrating him more than it was fun to him, which made him change his profession. The kids hitting the drums wildly, loudly without cooperating was something the man had despised and he loved drumming way too much to just laugh it off.

It really was a little too dark in there and Richard had a hard time making out the other mans face and features (being a little drunk definitely didn’t help either) but he felt like the faint shapes of his face were somehow strangely familiar. Did he know him? Impossible, in a large city like New York, that wasn’t even his home, you never met a person twice by coincidence. Coverd by the shadows he could only see that the other man had rather pale skin, and Richard could spot some sharp canines when the musician opened his mouth to sing some beautifully shaped words along with the even more beautiful melody. Prominent cheekbones were visible in the dimmed light of the pub, but the darkness was blinding, keeping everything else a secret. “What a beautiful man and what a shame he is disappearing in the darkness of this room.“ Richard thought to himself. Why had it to be so god damn dark in here? The now drunk man liked to stare at the stranger, intensely almost, wishing he could see him better. He was aware how creepy that was but he figured that he had no other choice with an aching heart like his.

He listened until the performance ended, intrigued and carried away by the warm voice and the excessive alcohol consumption. Richard felt at ease and not in a hurry for once.

It was past midnight when the musician came to an end and started stuffing his guitar into a large, red case in croco-optic. Richard noticed just then that the music had ended and the pub was close to empty. He watched the man collect his stuff before he decided to go and talk to him, disinhibited by the alcohol.

“Excuse me sir, I was watching you this evening and I thought you were really good!” He said a bit too loudly, a little smile on his lips and a faint blush on his cheeks, caused by the drinks he had previously.

“Noticed you watched me like a wolf hunting its pray but thank you sir, I’m glad you liked it” The singer answered, sassily and seemingly distant, obviously without any interest in a conversation. Probably just tired Richard figured sadly. But there was something that the short man noticed immediately that left him puzzled. He knew that accent, it was one that couldn’t be more familiar to him. The way the taller man spoke was how he knew it from his hometown, from the way his mother used to talk to him.

„A sweet man like you sure serves as great prey. You’re from Liverpool, right?“ He lay a a ringed finger on the other man’s shoulder and just got a strange look out of dark brown eyes and a thick lifted brow as an answer. The guitarist cringed at Richard’s touch, shoving the shorter man away carefully. Hell, wouldn’t Richard be so drunk he’d be long gone already, running away till Africa by now, plagued by embarrassment. The stranger clearly didn’t want to talk to him, but Richard just kept going, canned as he was. „Let me order you a drink beautiful, what do you like? I’ll get you everything you want and more.” He leant against the bar, with a smug, ugly grin on his face. If sober Richard had met himself like that, he’d have left with disgust in his face.

“Sorry, need to go, I have to work tomorrow.” The singer answered as he quickly left, brows raised, displaying his uneasiness and leaving a sighing Richard behind who wasn’t embarrassed just yet. That would happen once he’d be sober again, in case he remembered.

The next day, or more like that day in the later morning would be the time where they would cast the models for the job, choosing who would fit the whole flair the best. Usually it was Richards task to select them beforehand but the company under Lennon’s lead seemed to have some ideas already and some models in mind. Fine to Richard, one thing less to do. During the casting they would make a quick sample shoot to make sure the ideas Richard had would be feasible and the models were suitable.

When the short man got back to his room it was late, or rather early. His gaze fell onto the little grey, ractangle shaped alarm clock with red annual numbers glowing through the darkness of the room. Three in the morning, that meant only three hours to sleep. Not unusual for the blue eyed man. He wasn’t really used to getting much sleep anyway. Richard lazily brushed his teeth and took off his clothes. It was too hot to wear a pyjama anyways, shorts were just fine. Yawning, he made his way to his double bed, not bothering to turn on a light to dunk the dark room into a warm soft haze. The glimpse of the never sleeping city that lingered through the window, was bright enough to show him his way through the room. Billboards and signs lit up the night. Richard didn’t appreciate the light pollution much, as it made it harder for him to fall asleep but that was just how things were, no use in complaining. He closed his tired eyes, sighing just like so many times before that day. Dark brown eyes, a warm voice and guitar music made their way into his thoughts. Another stranger that he wasn’t able to connect with. Another meaningless face that Richard wished could gain some importance in his life. It didn’t happen, it just got worse and Richard got more and more tired of the life he was caught in. He hadn’t had enough alcohol to drown his sorrows apparently, but definitely enough to make a stupid mistake.

Slowly, a dreamless slumber swept over him, forcing his heavy eyelids, that he had opened again, to shut and his racing mind to quiet down until he was lost in an unconscious, comfortable darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Peace and Love guys


End file.
